


Metaphorical Bubble Wrap

by sadgravy



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Character Study, Eventual Smut, F/M, Femdom, Gentle femdom, Intimidating Amane Misa, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smart Amane Misa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadgravy/pseuds/sadgravy
Summary: The best thing about being considered an eccentric, hyper-fixating freak your whole life, is that no one batted an eyelash when you started acting like, well, an obsessive, eccentric freak.  That’s probably why no one noticed – or if they did, no one thought it worth mentioning – when L became interested in watching Misa.
Relationships: Amane Misa & L, Amane Misa/L
Comments: 23
Kudos: 43





	1. Brainfiles

**Author's Note:**

> This kept me up until 2am one night, begging to be written. Just a little blurb I plan on continuing, but I needed to set it free into the void for encouragement. Enjoy my dudes

The best thing about being considered an eccentric, hyper-fixating freak your whole life, is that no one batted an eyelash when you started acting like, well, an obsessive, eccentric freak. That’s probably why no one noticed – or if they did, no one thought it worth mentioning – when L became interested in watching Misa. He wasn’t worried about being questioned on it, but it didn’t matter, he always had plans; scenarios analyzed and response tweaked and catalogued away for future use. It would be almost too easy, he lamented, to blame his (increased) fixation with Misa on 2K (his nickname for the second Kira he reserved just for himself; it saved him two English syllables – it was more efficient that way).

Amending his previous train of thought, there was _one_ person who noticed and most definitely thought it worth mentioning, though she never did call attention to it beyond the sporadic ‘Oh, stop staring at MisaMisa! Ryuu is such a pervert~’.

The subject of his current infatuation – yeah, he couldn’t really deny it, to himself at least, any longer: he had the hots for Amane Misa – on several occasions had returned his prying gaze soon after her Misa-ism, but only once the taskforce’s attention had been squarely pulled to something they deemed more important than a 19 ditz. The first time it happened, the intensity and the weight of the anger (?), malice (?), behind her eyes stunned him. Of course the only affect he showed outwardly was a slight pause in the chewing of his thumb. He doubted anyone else noticed, he triple-checked that Light hadn’t, but Misa did. ‘The game was afoot!’ He did his best impression of Sherlock Holmes in his head – no one knew, but L was actually quite good at impressions, you know, in his head.

Now, L knew that she knew that he knew that the shiny metaphorical bubble wrap she dressed herself in every morning was a façade. He also realized the farcical attempts to scold him were clearly for the benefit of the others; she only mentioned his heavy gaze when it was so obvious it would be weirder _not_ to say something.

After that, L tried (and probably failed, if he was being honest with himself) to tone it down when there were more than a few people in the room – he hated having to force her into that voice. That voice, ugh, it grated on his nerves and made his own metaphorical bubble wrap of “stoic genius” start to slip and worry at the edges. Before, it was annoying, but _now?_ L didn’t just _want_ to know what Misa’s real voice would sound like, he _needed_ to know. Light himself was probably still ignorant to it’s timbre.

In fact, despite Light’s own unusually high intelligence, he seemed to be ignorant of a lot of things concerning Misa. ‘Hah, arrogant, sexist asshole,’ L mused. He had the sudden thought, ‘who is controlling whom?’. L gazed at Misa with a renewed sense of awe; this seemingly air-headed teenaged model, who swoons with every breath that pretty-boy Light takes, just grabbed each Kira theory L kept stored in his brainfiles and threw them to the winds, one by one (he pictured her laughing maniacally as hurricane force winds whipped her hair and the loose sheets of his brain papers around her face like some primitive halo). L guffawed. ‘Oh whoops,’ he thought as several sets of eyes turned to him, ‘I’m still a physical being, hmm what a shame.’


	2. The Ass-Crack of Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time taken to write my trash fanfic: 2 hours, 2.5 hours? an unnecessary amount okay
> 
> time passing in-world, between characters, depicted with 1k words: 3min. 27sec.
> 
> me: shit

Misa could feel the moisture gathering above her lip and her eyes stung from the sweat creeping is way in from her brow. She was muttering to herself – quite un-idol like, her sister would pointed out. Misa snorted (in another very unladylike way) thinking of her older sister’s imaginary scolding. It was this, along with the physical exertion, that kept her from noticing someone making their way into the deserted cardio room of headquarters.

When the sound of footsteps became too loud to ignore, she made sure to keep her eyes on her knees, seemingly intent on stretching her legs. The real purpose was so that she could have one more second of just being _Misa_ before she had to don her _Misa Misa_ garb. That final, sweet second of her blessed solitude was spent utterly pissed off. She told herself the stages of anger that contorted her face were on account of the time -- _‘It’s not even the asscrack of dawn, goddamit. Who the fuck would be up right now?’ –_ but really she just didn’t want to lose herself to the day just yet.

Her gut knew who had walked through that door before ever lifting her gaze, but Misa’s brain was a bit slow on the uptake this morning (she was in denial). So she took a calming breath, nose still touching her kneecaps, and pasted on the brightest Misa Misa smile she could muster to mask her fury.

Leisurely, and in her best ‘oh I didn’t know anyone else was here’ attitude, she unfolded herself and gave an exaggerated sigh. She took a millisecond to be proud of herself (her acting really was improving) before lifting her eyes to the unyielding nuisance. She felt another swell of pride upon eye contact, when she swallowed the disgusted noise at the back of her throat that was suddenly welling up. Misa was all about self-awareness and realistic goals, so when her smile faltered briefly and her eyes lost their shine upon seeing Ryuuzaki, she vowed she wouldn’t beat herself up about it later…well, _too_ badly at least.

Making sure the camera in the corner opposite her caught the feigned jump and grinning face, she greeted him with a giggle, “Oh! Ryuuzaki! Good Morning!” If she had been anyone else, any _where_ else, she would’ve missed the ghost of surprise and infinitesimal widening of L’s eyes – but she wasn’t, and they weren’t.

It wasn’t hard to guess why he was surprised with her chipper demeanor, and she rolled her eyes, internally of course; just because she let him know that she knew that he knew about her security blanket of bubble wrap didn’t mean she was suddenly going to shirk her façade. She asked herself if he really wanted the rest of the team privy to their game of cat and mouse. _‘Hm, is it more of a catfight? Or mouse and mouse?’_ she mused. It was almost funny enough for the light of her smile to reach her eyes -- almost.

Regardless, she had a feeling Ryuuzaki was keeping this new layer of Misa Misa to himself: a little puzzle to solve, just for him. She knew quite well that she was a game to him, like a quiet round of shogi to relieve some stress, perhaps.

Ryuuzaki -- _‘that ass’ –_ didn’t greet Misa like a normal human would. No ‘hey, hi, hello, good morning’ from him. She would’ve been happy (read: slightly less mad) with a ‘yo!’. Nah, not his style. Instead, he catapulted them both to the deep end of the pool that was human interaction within Hotel Hell. _‘Whatever happened to dipping a toe in, first?’_ Misa lamented.

“Your English is much better than you originally let on. Was that a recitation of some sort? It had that rhythmic flow that poetry often does. Of course, until you snorted, but I suppose that goes without saying,” he took a breath. The slightest pause, and Misa let herself feel relieved, assuming it was over. She should’ve learned by now (she _had_ learned by now, actually; must’ve been the ass-crack thing again).

“I’m curious,” off he went -- swam right to the bottom of the deep end, a vice-like grip around Misa’s ankle, “If you would indulge me, that is,” they both knew she didn’t have a choice, “why did you lie to the team about your English skill level? Seems an unusual thing to lie about when you’re under investigation for mass murder. Unless, the English language somehow factors in, hm? But I highly doubt it.”

The strain put on Misa’s cheeks from keeping up her world-renowned smile felt heavier than any grocery bag she had ever carried up seven flights of stairs; felt worse than any fitness regimen a personal trainer could dream of putting her through. Still, Misa wasn’t a quitter; she held the pass -- unwavering.

_‘This guy is the single biggest asshole, with zero self-awareness, that I have ever met. He’s just fucking talking to himself! I don’t even think I’ve brushed my teeth yet, and here he is.’_ If Misa’s anger had cooled at all in the span of this interaction, it had certainly flared higher now than ever before. She smiled wider.

“Oh Ryuuzaki, you are so silly. I don’t know _how_ you manage being this weird before 6am!” Punctuated with an enthusiastic giggle, she reached for her water bottle. After another playful squint of her eyes towards L, and an airy laugh, just for good measure, she upended her bottle and slowly gulped down close to 30 oz. of water. Misa had bought herself some time to think. She wasn’t as dumb as the fictional Misa Misa, but Misa knew she wasn’t at Ryuuzaki’s premonition-like level of intelligence either. She had to get out of this miserable situation without coming out of character; someone was always watching the Hades’ Headquarters’ Hidden Cams. Ryuuzaki probably knew what she was doing, but it seemed he was waiting on Misa to pop that first metaphorical bubble before readying his own needles for play.

Much in the fashion of Misa Misa’s spontaneity (the persona was based on the genuine article after all), Misa said _‘Fuck it.’_ If he wanted to go swimming, Misa would get out her snorkel. Misa also decided that the unreliable narrator, who was currently breaking the third wall, should really stop with the pool analogies, because, truly, they’re not that funny (but also they kinda are).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ay-oh river. here is this lmbo. still no plot,,,whispers of one th? maybe? I have another chapter to publish probably tomorrow, but I'm rly frickin hungry and have had to pee for at least an hour and this is all I got through editing. I wanted to get this out there for all the magical, weirdo humans who like my trashcan stories lmbo
> 
> on a serious (read: less sarcastic) note: y'all leaving comments, etc. rly brighten my mediocre days. when I get that lil email with "xyz left a comment on..." in the subject line, I'm like omg another precious freak whom I must cherish always. now I feel like I'm fishing for compliments (pc4pc, f4f, join my train) (this is a myspace reference) (oh also I slipped in a "300" reference in the fic if u can spot it) (300 is that that movie abt spartans, jsyk) 
> 
> ps. I told myself I wasn't gonna have a rambling author's note and yet, 
> 
> pps. oh here's an embarrassing sometimes those comment emails I get so litty about rly read "comment you left on..." and it's just ao3 telling me I left a comment on my own fic lol I rly should turn those off. but my adhd ass won't. bye.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave comments, compliments, insults, or hate mail. I love it all.


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